


we can see the promise land from here

by neoncrayolas



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Both of them need a hug, Buck is tired and Eddie is angry, Light Angst, M/M, and they get it, because honestly they deserve it, canon compliant until 3x06, from each other of course, they also makeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-07 17:35:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21221054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoncrayolas/pseuds/neoncrayolas
Summary: When he got home, Buck didn’t bother to turn any lights on or go into the kitchen to get anything to eat. He hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. He made his way up to his bed, shedding his jacket and shirt along the way. Other clothes littered the stairs, were draped over chairs and the balcony. Multiple cups were stacked on his dresser and nightstand, half full of water. There weren’t any sheets on the bed – Buck had torn them off in the midst of a panic attack weeks ago.(Or, the one where Buck is so very tired, and Eddie is angry and shows up after a street fight)





	we can see the promise land from here

Buck is _tired_.

He’s tired of not being able to be with his family, he’s tired of not being able to work – to do the one thing he’s good at, the one thing he’s good for – he’s tired of having nightmares about the fire truck and the tsunami and losing Christopher, he’s tired of getting the cold shoulder, and today, after the scene in the grocery store, he’s tired of not being able to talk to Eddie.

After everyone had disappeared to go help the people in the cars outside, Buck just felt everything drain out of him. Whatever apology he was going to make, whatever fight he thought he still had in him – it vanished, went up in flames.

He slipped out of the store, away from the scene, and drove home, not even bothering to buy the groceries in his basket – he’d only gone there because he knew it was shopping day for the crew.

When he got home, Buck didn’t bother to turn any lights on or go into the kitchen to get anything to eat, even though he couldn’t really remember the last time he’d eaten anything. He hadn’t had much of an appetite lately. He tossed his keys onto the table and made his way up to his bed, shedding his jacket and shirt along the way. Other clothes littered the stairs, were draped over chairs and the balcony. Multiple cups were stacked on his dresser and nightstand, half full of water. There weren’t any sheets on the bed – Buck had torn them off in the midst of a panic attack weeks ago. He’d woken up in the middle of the night, twisted in them, unable to breathe, tears streaming down his face.

He’d never put them back on. He didn’t want to feel like they were choking him, drowning him.

Falling face-first into bed, he shoved the blankets off and most of the pillows, curling around the last one, sighing deeply.

He was so goddamn tired, but he couldn’t go to sleep.

He wasn’t sure how long he laid there, staring at the shadows the ever-moving lights of LA threw across his wall. He didn’t have the energy to check his phone to see if anyone had asked where he’d gone, but he doubted they had. They’d have paperwork to fill out after the scene at the store, they’d have groceries to put away. Buck knew the routine and it _ached _inside of him.

He almost didn’t hear the pounding on the door downstairs – he’d gotten pretty good at blocking out noises that had nothing to do with whatever his current spiraling state was. He only noticed it because it got increasingly louder and more rapid. But even after he noticed it, Buck couldn’t bring himself to care – he wasn’t sure who it was this late at night, but whoever it was would give up and go away eventually.

Wrong.

The pounding ceased, and Buck finally closed his eyes, sinking deeper into his bed.

Then he heard a key turn in the lock and knew then it could only be one of two people – and it wouldn’t be Maddie, because she would have called him first.

Meaning it was –

But why?

Buck groaned and rolled over, sitting up slowly before standing and going to peek over the edge of his loft.

Eddie was standing right below him, arms folded, scowl on his face.

His face that was bruised and _bleeding_. Buck could see blood running from his knuckles, could see a bruise forming just below his neckline.

“Eddie –” A hoarse whisper escaped Buck’s mouth, and an unfamiliar feeling swept through him: rage. Rage at whoever had _put their hands on him_. Buck cleared his throat, standing up straighter. “Eddie, what –”

“No,” Eddie snarled, and Buck jumped at his tone. “You lost the right to ask me about my life the second you decided to tell that lawyer everything about us.”

“I –” Buck opened his mouth, then closed it again. Earlier in the store, he’d been ready. He was going to explain everything, going to tell them the lawsuit had been dropped, that he hadn’t taken any money, he was going to _apologize_, and tell them that he had fucked up.

But now the words were all dried up. He had nothing.

“If you came here to finish yelling, go ahead and get it out,” Buck finally said quietly, bowing his head. He deserved it – he knows he did. Because he did fuck up.

Eddie said nothing.

Buck wanted nothing more than to _throw _himself down the stairs into the older man’s arms and cry, wanted nothing more than to feel safe again, to feel like someone _needed him_.

When Eddie remained silent, Buck rocked back and forth on his heels instead of doing that. “Eddie, I’m not sure what it is you want –”

“I wanted you to _be there_,” Eddie snapped. “I needed you to be there. Do you know that it’s not _me _that Christopher cries out for every night – it’s _you_. And I’ve had to tell him that you weren’t there.”

Buck’s heart catches at the mere _thought _of Christopher wanting him, crying out for him, and Buck not being there.

“Eddie, I –”

“And what about _me_, Buck?” Eddie said, stepping toward the stairs. Buck followed his movements wearily. “You could’ve _died _under that truck, you could’ve _died _in the tsunami. And where would that have left me?”

“It’s not like I planned – I didn’t mean for –”

Buck couldn’t seem to make any words come out the way he wanted to.

He was so, so tired.

Eddie was halfway up the stairs now. Buck could see his face more clearly in the little light that came from the night sky through the window. He could see the blackening eye, the dried blood from a cut on his forehead. Despite himself, Buck took a step forward.

“Seriously, are you okay –”

“No, Evan, I am _not okay!_” Eddie shouted. Buck flinched and took a step backward. “You’ve almost died on me, you’ve almost _left me _more times than I care to count, and then on top of it all you _voluntarily _file some _stupid _lawsuit that prevents me from talking to you? From seeing you? Did you even think about what that would mean? How it would make me – the rest of us – feel?”

“That’s why I did it, Eddie!” Buck finally exploded, the words he’d been prepared to say earlier bursting out of him. Every single thing he’d been feeling in the past two months snapped inside of him, a snake that had coiled finally striking. “Did you – did _any _of you – stop to think about how _I _felt? How much I _missed _you guys? How it feels to know that you _replaced _me so fucking easily? How the fuck do you think I felt, seeing my name taped over like that on my locker? Did you ever stop to think about how hard it is for me to see you guys go out there _every single day _and I’m not there to watch your back? This job – you guys – you’re my entire _life_, Eddie, and to have that taken away –”

“So your solution was to _sue us?_” Eddie roared. He was in the loft now, and Buck backed up until the back of his legs hit his bed. He knew Eddie would never lay a hand on him, but he’d never seen the other man this angry. “What did you think was going to happen?”

Buck closed his eyes, his brief brush of anger dissipating. He tried to take deep breaths. Eddie was still yelling, and Buck tried to understand his anger. He did.

But Buck was tired. He was so goddamn tired of fighting. Of explaining himself. Of everyone not understanding, or even trying to understand, but all he did was try to understand how they were feeling. He _needed _someone to understand, and he needed that someone to be Eddie.

Opening his eyes, he saw Eddie standing less than a foot away from him, words still flying out of his mouth.

“Eddie.”

Buck’s voice was quiet when he said the other man’s name for perhaps the thousandth time that night, interrupting his tirade.

“_What_?” Eddie snapped. His chest was heaving, fists clenched. The sounds of LA seemed louder around them, horns blaring and a helicopter flying somewhere above. It had started to rain, and it pattered against the window. Everything seemed to slow down.

Buck took a deep breath and reached out to put his hand against Eddie’s face.

Eddie closed his eyes but didn’t move away from the touch.

“Eddie,” Buck whispered. He stepped closer. “I am _sorry_. I need you to know that. I didn’t want any of this to happen. You _have _to know I would never do anything to hurt Christopher. Or the team. Or – Eddie, I would never do anything to hurt _you_, I –”

Eddie cut Buck off by lunging forward and crashing his lips onto Buck’s. His mouth was firm, warm, and everything Buck suddenly wanted. Buck’s hands came up to cup Eddie’s face, and Eddie twisted his hands through Buck’s hair. Both men were breathing hard, and somehow had ended up against the wall next to Buck’s bed. Eddie’s hands dropped down to Buck’s bare chest, down his stomach, he was moving them lower, lower, and Buck groaned softly into Eddie’s mouth before pulling away.

“Eddie, Eddie –”

Eddie looked at Buck with a look the younger man couldn’t quite place, but there was a softness in his eyes that Buck hadn’t seen in weeks. Eddie let his head fall forward onto Buck’s shoulder, and he reached up to clutch at him.

“…Eddie?”

Buck felt a wetness on his chest, and at first thought Eddie was bleeding again.

Then he realized Eddie was _crying_.

“Eddie, Eddie, hey, I’m right here,” Buck breathed, bringing his arms up around Eddie, pulling him almost impossibly close. “I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere, ever again.”

Eddie made a small, noncommittal noise, burying his face more soundly into Buck’s shoulder.

Buck leaned up to kiss Eddie’s hairline and started rubbing a hand up and down his back. A shudder went through the older man, and he pulled back, looking at Buck with tears in his eyes.

“Stop – _leaving _me, Evan Buckley,” he whispered. “Christopher’s already lost so much and _I _– I can’t lose you.”

Buck wrapped his arms around Eddie, crushing the other man to him once more.

“Never,” Buck said quietly against Eddie’s hair. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

~

Eventually Eddie’s breathing would even out. Eventually they’d talk about the kiss, and why Eddie had shown up looking like he’d gotten run over by a truck. Eventually Buck would get out the words he needed to say, that he _needed _Eddie and Christopher in his life, that he was stupid, and he was sorry, and he wasn’t going anywhere.

But for now, they were content to just hold one another: a steady, firm reminder that they were there, and they finally had each other back.

**Author's Note:**

> Buck and Eddie deserve the world, that is all, thank you and goodnight


End file.
